


Cut Off

by Ecris



Series: Alone Together [2]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: 12 AM fic, Angst, Headcanon, M/M, No Beta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-29 09:49:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5123183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ecris/pseuds/Ecris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodimus is called in when First Aid gets the first call from Ratchet. It's not what he expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cut Off

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this really late, so I was too tired to bother with fact checking. Sorry in advance for that, as well as any OOCness, as this is the first time I've written Rodimus. Probably shouldn't have been done at 12 AM, but, you know, I couldn't get to sleep with this screaming to be written.
> 
> Could be a continuation of "Better", but its not a necessary read for this fic. Enjoy!

Rodimus waited across from First Aid. The new Chief Medical Officer talked with his chin low to his chest, with the most serious look Rodimus had ever heard. Such a somber frame pushed his spark over the edge of anxiety and into the crushing feeling of impending doom. Whatever Ratchet had called First Aid for, it wasn't good. The fact that Rodimus himself had been requested to be there for the call, well… thinking about that was something Rodimus was trying avoid.

But his processor was filled with unique shots of Drift's energon-stained frame. Drift being tortured, Drift rejoining the Decepticons, Drift starving to death in the pissy shuttle they'd let him leave on.

That Rodimus had made him leave on.

Everything and anything that could (or Primus forbid, had) happen to Drift was on Rodimus. It nearly killed him to think about it.

Instead he focused on trying to hear the conversation.

First Aid was in a quarantine room, one of the only guaranteed soundproof rooms on the Lost Light despite its large observation windows. When Rodimus had been summoned, he had found himself locked out and consequently bored. Fortunately, as far as he could tell, First Aid had called him in at the end of his chat with Ratchet, and was wrapping things up as he headed toward the room's door.

The door opened far too slowly.

"Yes he's hear, Ratchet," First Aid's tone was just as dower as his frame. "No, he didn't hear anything."

A pause.

"I'll hand it to him… Goodbye, Ratchet," whispered First Aid. The mech only glanced at him during the quick exchange. He didn't look at Rodimus when he handed the communicator to him either.

"Hello?" Rodimus blurted as soon as he got the communicator to his audial. After a moment there was some sort of shuffling noise, but no response.

"Hello, Ratchet? What's up?" 

….-

"Hi Roddy."

Drift. Every vent in Rodimus' frame stuttered. The shuffling sound explained, Rodimus' couldn't help but feel betrayed by Ratchet. The old rusted Cog, he thought Rodimus needed to hear how much he hurt Drift. But it was just an extremely unnecessary reminder, one that choked his vocalizer with self-hatred and guilt.

"I'm not mad at you, Rodimus," Drift said quickly, as if he can wanted to cut off anything Rodimus might say.

"What?" That punched Rodimus out of his hesitance. "What do you mean you're not mad?"

He heard Drift sigh and shuffle the communicator slightly. "I told you it was the best choice. It was my decision too."

"That's part of the problem, Drift," Rodimus growled, flinching when First Aid shot him a look. "Ugh, just, hold on."

Drift might've said something like "okay" before Rodimus pulled the communicator away and crossed the room to the quarantine. He closed the door, and shut off the lights after a second's thought. Then he took a moment to breath and steady himself. He brought the communicator back to his audial.

"Drift that is exactly the problem. You didn't have to take the blame and you know it. Just because it was 'your decision' too does not make it any more kosher."

"What?"

"…Human word. Look, Drift," Rodimus leveled, wishing Drift could see how scary his Magnus impression had gotten, "there are no excuses for what I did. For some dumbaft reason I let myself think your exile was the only way out. And it wasn't okay, Drift. I shouldn't, I should never have even asked you to take the blame for all of us."

Drift was silent. Rodimus couldn't decide whether it was a realization that he was right or Drift didn't want to argue anymore, so he went on.

"We could've figured something out," he insisted. "You didn't have to take the fall. Pit, Brainstorm could have been-"

"Brainstorm was pulled into it, he didn't need to take the fall for something he hardly had a choice in being involved in."

"But you didn't either! I pulled you into-"

"Roddy-"

"Drift," Rodimus interjected forcefully. "Please. Just, let me… say I'm sorry. Let me take the blame for once."

He could hear more shuffling and a sigh on the the other end. 

"Rodimus, I wanted to leave."

Rodimus felt himself still. "What? Why."

"You know why," Drift spoke softly. "I always told you I felt alone there, on the Lost Light. I mean, you, you and Perceptor were the only friends I had. Magnus only tolerated me, but that was a step up from everyone else. I know you thought mecha would come around, but Roddy, no one was. Maybe Rewind, and by extension Chromedome. Maybe… maybe Ambulon and I might've been friends after a while. But I couldn't stay there with the whole ship hating me. 

"I felt so alone."

Rodimus shuttered his optics as his fists clenched hard. He remembered trying to get Drift to go to the bar, trying to get him to come to movie nights with Rewind. And it paid off, a little. Drift bringing some new movies had Rewind jittering with happiness, especially after Drift gave him one or two. Skids had been pretty okay with Drift after a few rounds of truth or drink, and Swerve always loved some who actually paid their tab.

Tailgate could be counted in, if he didn't like everybody.

But Rodimus knew Drift had been lonely anyway. He'd had some more plans and parties to get Drift some more acceptance, hopefully some more friends. That'd been before Overlord, and then there was nothing Rodimus could do. He hadn't been able to help anyone, not even his best friend, and then he had chosen to exile Drift, and Drift accepted because Rodimus been able to help him enough before either.

"I'm sorry, Drift," Rodimus whispered. He felt his optics spark painfully. "I'm so sorry. I tried, I really did."

"Hey, don't cry," Drift comforted, sounding like he was holding back sobs himself. "Don't worry about me, okay? Everything turned out alright."

Rodimus took in a shaky vent, willing the sparks to stop. "Y-yeah? Smooch your medic yet?"

There was a thunk and a clatter, followed by some wild shuffling and Drift hissing at him. "Rodimus!"

It was enough to make Rodimus chuckle and smirk. "So… is that a yes?"

Drift sighed. "No, it's not a yes."

Rodimus frowned. "Well what does it mean, then? I thought you said everything was going great."

"And it is," Drift promised. "It's just, you know, slow. I think that's the best thing for us now. It was… rough until Ratchet got here. But with him…

"I guess it just feels natural. I don't really have to worry about being myself. It's really nice. There's stuff we've gotta figure out, but we're going at our own pace."

It wasn't exactly what Rodimus wanted to hear. But he'd take it, if Drift was happy. He only wished he'd been able to do the same for Drift.

"Happy to hear it," he said instead. 

"Mhm," Drift's smile could be heard through the communicator. "Ratchet did want to talk to you, too. That okay?"

"Eugh," Rodimus cringed, and didn't realize he'd grunted out loud until he heard Drift's snickering.

"It won't be that bad. I'll make sure he goes easy on you."

Rodimus rolled his optics and leaned back on the medical slab. "That makes me feel so much better."

"Gotta talk to him some time. Might as well be when Im here to keep him from being a total aft."

Rodimus groaned dramatically. "I really don't need this today. Go ahead and put 'im on, though, let's get it over with."

"Alright," Drift said, then hesitated. "Talk to you later, right?"

"Yeah," Rodimus replied a little too hastily. "...Yeah, definitely."

"Great! …Here's Ratchet."

Rodimus swallowed nervously at the shuffling noise.

"It's Ratchet," Ratchet said, quite impassively for someone with a permanent grump. 

Rodimus chose his next words carefully. "How… how was he?"

"Well he wasn't dead," Ratchet gruffed. "But would you not believe the absolute slagpile we got ourselves into. He's almost as bad as you."

That was close enough to a joke that it had Rodimus spinning to figure out where this was going. If Ratchet wasn't pissed as all hell, like he had been before he left, what did he want to say?

Rodimus put it off with a shaky laugh. "You and I know that's not true."

"Not yet," Ratchet huffed, pausing. "Rodimus, I'm gonna just have to tell you. We aren't coming back."

"You're what?" Rodimus nearly yelled, a pulse of dread splitting his spark. "What do you mean you're not coming back?"

"Drift doesn't need to face everything that he left behind on the Lost Light, new or old. And First Aid has deserved that promotion for far longer, and I'm not keeping it from him anymore."

"Ratchet, are you listening to yourself? You can't be saying-"

"I'm retiring? Yes, I am."

Rodimus fumed for a moment, trying in vain to bring his thoughts back together. "So what? You're just gonna float around forever? Or are you gonna go back to Cybertron?"

"No, we're not gonna 'go back to Cybertron'," Ratchet retorted mockingly.

"Then what?"

"Look Rodimus, I'm not doing this for the picnic among the stars. Drift does not need to be back on that ship."

Rodimus cut through the brief shuffling that came through. "Why? You think I'll get him killed?"

Ratchet growled and snapped. "That's not the damn reason and you know it. You and Drift may be best friends, but you both have to get your shit sorted! Separately!"

Ratchet sighed, "Rodimus, you two can't help each other right now. Drift needs to focus on himself, and you need to focus on your… quest. Bringing Drift back would only make things worse."

Rodimus didn't realize he'd been biting the inside of his cheek until he tasted the energon. "How come you get to decide what's best for him?"

"Because I know both of you slaggers well enough to know what's best for both of you right now."

"No you don't, Ratchet," Rodimus snarled. "You don't know how- you think- I need my friend, Ratchet. I'm falling apart here, Primus damn it all."

"Rodimus," Ratchet said, and for all the years Rodimus had known Ratchet he'd never sounded so soft. "You can do this. I believe in you."

Rodimus paused, sniffling. He wiped away the singe marks his sparking optics had left. "What?"

"I know I've never said it, but-"

"But you voted against me, Ratchet. You specifically told me you voted for me to quit."

"Yeah well, sometimes you need a kick in you aft to straighten up."

Rodimus groaned and flung himself back on the slab. It made sense, what Ratchet said, and it eased some of the hurt he felt, but only took an edge off the anger. "You are Unicron's afthole. I hate you," Rodimus muttered, the words coming out flat.

Ratchet chuckled. "Yeah, I hate you too.

"But make sure you call Drift again."

"Why?" His face scrunched up. "I thought you wanted me to stay away?"

"I want Drift to stay away from that ship, not keep him away from his best friend."

"Okay, okay," Rodimus sighed. "Whatever. I was gonna call him anyway."

"Good. Just ask First Aid for the communicator I left behind."

"Got it."

There was an awkward silence, and for the first times, Rodimus didn't know how to get himself out of it. So he let his spark speak for him.

"Make sure Drift doesn't get killed, okay? I'll never forgive you if you don't." He was only half-joking.

"Yeah, me too. See you later, Rodimus."

"Bye Ratch'."


End file.
